Living On Given Time
by juggernaut715
Summary: Allen has been called through the note he left on a painting at the Order HQ. The note says :Protect Harry Potter. In order to do so he could simply follow Harry around, or he could follow Dumbledore's suggestion: Pose as a student! Slight AU, pastLenallen, set in 5th year. Allen gets a bit OOC sometimes, ArkMusician!Allen, friendshipAllenxsnape, after a long wait, Chapter 7 is up!
1. Where is my charge?

Allen hustled. He didn't like hustling. He was _hungry._ He shouldn't have to hustle. But he was told to be at Twelve Grimmauld Place at midnight, _exactly._ So he was now running. Not easy while wearing a full on cloak that made it hard to see, since he was-no, he wasn't short. He would _never_ admit that.

He reached Grimmauld Place. He ran down the street, counting numbers.

_9, 10, 11, 13, 14- what._

He turned back, running to the place between 11 and 13 Grimmauld place.

"Where the fuck is it?" He asked aloud. He hung his head, checking the watch Komui had given him as a present for his 35th birthday, which had been nearly 70 years ago. He had defeated the Earl and his followers …excluding Road and Tyki. They had promised at the edge of his sword to keep out of trouble. They _knew_ he was strong than them. The 14th had kept silent for some time now. He didn't have a purpose to speak.

But of course, being a Noah, Allen wasn't aging. He looked like he was 17 still, and when he looked 17, he looked like he was 14.

Not convenient. He sat down on the ground, checking his watch again. It hadn't changed from the 11:58 it had been at the last time he checked, less than ten seconds ago. He could hear a rustling of leaves from the trees that lined the street, and the grass seemed to shift unnaturally on the edges of 11th and 13th Grimmauld Place.

_Why? Why is there no twelve? Come on, if I concentrate hard enough, it ought to appear or something. Right? This place is magic or some nonsense._

Allen concentrated. He could feel one of the veins in his forehead threatening to explode when he opened his eyes to find nothing had changed.

"God damn it." He muttered under his breath. His watch said 11:59. Maybe this was a joke. I mean, who actually _knew_ he existed except in legend? Someone had probably found that little note on the painting that said

_Ask for me and you will have my aid, Allen Walker_

And taken it to heart. And then stomped on it. Allen could feel that vein threatening to explode again. He was _not pleased_ with the arrangements of this meeting.

And then there was a slight shaking. Before Allen's eyes the space between the 11th and 13th buildings grew, and a building labeled 12th shot up from the ground. It looked older than the rest of the buildings. But Allen was not one to wait. He darted forward, leaping up onto the porch and slamming his right hand on the door to let him in. There were muffled yells from inside and frantic whispering. Then the door slammed open and a tiny stick of wood was pointed in his face, along with several others behind the man who stood before him. The man was tall, but he looked like a wild animal. His hair was scraggly and he had an unkempt beard that seemed to be missing patches.

"Um…hello." Allen murmured, keeping his hood over his head, not wanting to show himself to some people who quite obviously hadn't been expecting him. But they had invited him! He had a blood note that said to come here and supply aid to someone named Harry Potter. "Excuse me, but is there a Harry Potter on the premise?" The question seemed to shake the man before him to his very foundations.

"Who're you?" He demanded, poking the wand forward. Allen didn't flinch, nor shy away.

"Ex-General of the Black Order, Allen Walker. I was told to be here."

"By who?" The man asked, his stick drooping slightly, as though he didn't understand what was being said. Had he expected something else?

"No name was provided. I know the person I'm supposed to be here for is Harry Potter, though. That's all I was told on the note." He said, pulling the note out of his pocket. He ignored the man suddenly snapping the wand up and nearly poking him in the nose with it. He held the note out. The man snatched it and looked it over.

"Come to 12 Grimmauld Place at midnight on August 21st. Protect the one named Harry Potter. Thank you, Exorcist. What the hell's this?" The man asked, lowering his wand completely, handing the note to someone behind him. Allen simply crossed his arms and leaned against one of the posts outside. The cold didn't bother him, and neither did the rain. He was already soaked anyways.

The man turned back to him. "Are you a Deatheater?" he asked, raising his wand again.

"A what?" The retort seemed to be enough for the man.

"Come in. If you try anything, anything at all, I'll kill you before you can blink." The man said, trying to sound as threatening as he could. Allen ignored it, having taken worse from Kanda, who had died long ago.

"Thank you." Allen murmured as he finally entered the house. There were still three sticks pointed at him. One man was pretty tall, seemed to be balding, and had incredibly red hair. One was an even taller man with a shifty leg and a staff twenty times bigger than the tiny sticks pointing at him. And the last was a woman, who if Allen had to guess from immediate circumstance, was related somehow to the red haired man.

"What's with the sticks?" he asked nonchalantly. The people visibly blinked a few times before turning to each other and then back to him.

"You don't know what a wand is?"

"Oh, so I was right! I knew there was magic or something here. That was what it said on the second note." The man from before reappeared.

"What other note?"

Allen fished it out from his deep pocket and handed it to the man.

"The people there will be magic-it's like Innocence, but more freelance. Expect the unexpected. Thank you again, ageless one. Ok, who the hell is the ageless one, and who was the exorcist mentioned in the last one?"

"Me. Both of them are me." The man eyed the cloaked figure before him carefully. He still hadn't seen the persons face. From the voice, which sounded strangely magical in its own way, he was a man, or a boy. The voice was pitched high. It could have been a female.

"Take off your hood." The man said.

"I'd rather not. It would not be good to disturb you. I am rather marred." The tallest of the group, the one with the staff bent over and looked into the hood's shadows.

"Boy, girl, whatever you are, bein' marred means you're a man! I've got the fake eye to prove it!" He said with pride. He stood up fully, expecting the person in front of him to oblige.

"Truly…it's for the best if you don't see my face. Now, where is my charge?" He ignored the dropped jaw of Mad Eye Moody and stepped forward. He was blocked by the man from before.

"I think you're a bit suspicious."

"I think you are too, seeing as I don't even know your name yet." _This was a lie, of course. Allen, along with his imbued powers as a Noah, and the __**musician**__, could hear each person's song. He already knew the man before him was Sirius Black, and was a tormented soul._

"I don't think I'll tell you it."

"Sirius-ly, Mr. Black? You won't tell me your name? Alright. Mad-Eye, what's with him? He seems _Moody._" The two men stepped back.

"How-"

"There is more to this world than just magic, Mr. Black. You would do well to understand that sooner than later, and stop being a belligerent twit. **You. Are. In. My. Way.**" A slightly lower and even quieter voice interrupted. Sirius was not so stupid as to ignore the significant dark aura emanating from their visitor.

Reluctantly, he stepped out of the way. Their visitor walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. He looked around for a moment. Sirius and everyone else followed him as he sat down in the kitchen chair.

"Where is my charge?"

"He's not here yet."

"He's-what? _Not here yet?_" Allen let out a huff. "Molly, I'm starving. Would you be so kind as to make something for me to eat?" he asked the woman, who seemed a bit put off by the fact the person knew her name. It was unnerving. But nevertheless, her compassionate side took over, and she made him a sandwich, which disappeared from the plate before their eyes.

"That is perhaps the best sandwich I've had in a decade. Thank you." The compliment flushed Molly's cheeks.

"You're welcome dear." She removed herself from the room. Sirius sat down across from the hooded figure and studied him.

He could clearly see the boy, he decided, was young. But the way he carried himself and the mention of 'ageless one' were indications that he was older than he seemed. He was also pretty tiny, which led Sirius to believe this was a bit of a hoax. How could someone asked to protect Harry be his size? And another thing, _who had asked for this aid?_ Dumbledore himself, probably. But he wouldn't have left them totally out of the loop.

"How did you know my name?" He decided to start with. The figure seemed to raise his head, and then drop it, a faint snicker escaping his lips.

"I can hear it." _Well that's unsettling._ Sirius decided to hold off on the questioning for a bit, and just straight up _examine_ the boy.

He wore a hooded cloak, and a pretty unrevealing one at that. He also wore white gloves with a tiny cross on the back of the hand of each. Sirius could make out nothing else.

"What was your name again?" He asked, actually having forgotten the name.

"Allen Walker. Call me Walker." _Have I ever heard that name before? For some reason I can't help but think that was mentioned in my fourth year at Hogwarts during a history lesson. But if this guy was mentioned back then…_

A sudden pop was heard. Allen only slightly raised his head at the sound of Dumbledore walking into the kitchen.

"Where is Harry, Albus?" Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow at the cloaked figure sitting across from Sirius.

"Sirius, a word?" Sirius obliged and exited the room with Dumbledore. Allen could only hear that they were whispering, for some reason he couldn't make out what they were saying. Probably a spell or some charm.

_In the other room…_

"Sirius, who is that?"

"I thought you would have known."

"I've never met a cloaked figure with white gloves before."

"He calls himself Allen Walker; he says he's here to protect Harry." Dumbledore's eyes widened, fully revealing the electric blue iris's.

"Did he now? I recall Allen Walker being…" He trailed off, ignoring Sirius and walking back into the kitchen.

"Mr. Walker, have you a mind to converse for a few minutes?"

"Take your time, Headmaster. I've got too much of it and not enough to do with it." Dumbledore sat down from across the figure, shooing Sirius into the other room.

"I take it you've been instructed to protect Harry. Are you sure you have no idea who sent the notes?"

"I could take guesses, but considering the tunes I think their all wrong." _Tunes?_

" Mr. Walker…do you know _why_ Harry needs protecting?"

"No. I left the note on the painting, and whoever needed me to do anything could ask for it. I've been instructed to win wars before, and I've done it. Now I get a simple task, and I intend to see it through whatever the reason has caused it."

"Hmm… What, per chance, is this painting you speak of?"

"You know the painting, Dumbledore. You've seen it. You know exactly what I look like under this cloak, and you _know_ where my charge is, _so tell me where he is._"

Dumbledore let his lips twinge upwards in a smile for a moment. Yes, he did know who Allen Walker was, and he had seen the painting. It was laying on top of Hevlaska's grave at the bottom of the Tower of the Black Order. He had seen it when he was nearly 40 years younger, on a whim.

"Harry will be arriving within a few minutes. I'd like to offer you the opportunity, Mr. Walker, to make your charge less…conspicuous."

"You want me to teach at your ruddy school?"

"No, Mr. Walker. I want you to take a guise as a student. You would be able to stick with Harry wherever he went. You'd be able to defend him whenever he needed defending." The figure before Dumbledore slouched, then moved his hands in a crisscrossing pattern on the table.

"Albus, if I do this, you will promise me several things."

"And those will be?"

"My own room, first of all. I've heard how your school has its _common rooms._ I don't want to deal with any of the other brats. And second, you better have an indefinite supply of food; that sandwich was _not_ enough."

"Mr. Walker, I think this is an excellent arrangement. Why don't you come with me; we shall acquire some contraband that will make you more…studious."

Diagon alley was not fun. Allen had agreed on meeting his charge once he had acquired his necessities as a "student" at Hogwarts. Apparently Harry would be delayed, anyways. Allen didn't need the sleep, and Dumbledore was not one who wanted to waste time, so they entered the alley at 1 in the morning.

"The first thing you'll need is a set of robes. You've got to look the part, after all, Mr. Walker."

"Albus, considering the fact that you're my senior I should be calling you Mr. Dumbledore, or headmaster. But I've _lived_ more than you have in your 150 years and _then _some. Call me Allen. Informality is a pain for ageless beings such as myself."

"Very well, Allen. Into the shop with you."

They entered a shop filled with wizarding clothing ranging from pointed hats to bendy caps and fancy dresses and sparkling robes.

"A solid black robe, if you please." Dumbledore said to the lady at the desk.

"Albus, I would prefer if you would stay outside whilst I acquire my robes. I plan to augment the scar on my face with paint as soon as I can."

"Of course."

Dumbledore left the room, standing out in the street, leaning against the wall. The cold didn't bother him either. Sooner than later Allen exited the shop carrying a bundle of clothing.

"I suppose I'll need a stick."

"It's known as a wand."

"Alright, alright." They made their way to Ollivanders.

An elderly man answered the door.

"What's this? I don't do sellings in the middle of the- Ah, Albus…You need something?"

"A wand, if you please." Ollivander raised an eyebrow at the cloaked boy in front of him, but he shrugged.

"Anything for you, old friend. Just don't wake me up again." He let them in and he got behind the desk. It was more than slightly hilarious for Dumbledore to see Ollivander going through the trademarked nonsensical measurements for a wand in nothing but a bathrobe, night cap, and pink rabbit slippers.

"You're older than you look, aren't you? Well, that doesn't matter. Sooner or later, always happens. Hold out your hand." Ollivander placed a box in Allen's hand but pulled it back just as quick as he had placed it, shaking his head. He repeated this several more times. Then he finally nodded his head.

"I think I'm beginning to see what you need. Try this one." He pulled out a wand and gave it to Allen, who gave it a flick.

The night cap incinerated. The wand was replaced and soon enough Ollivander was stark naked and half his shop was blown to bits.

"Gee Willikers. You're a right difficult one, aren't you?" Ollivander darted back into his stores, ignoring the shudders of the boy who had stood before him.

Nude Ollivander; not a pretty sight.

He came back wearing another night cap, but nothing else. He handed Allen one last wand.

A stream of silver sparks shot out of the end of a more than ordinary brown stick.

"Gopher wood, 14 inches, a twin core of-"

"Ebony and Ivory." The cloaked figure finished for him, distress obvious in his voice as he clutched the wand close to his chest as though he was afraid he would lose it. Dumbledore and Ollivander both looked at each other in silence before Dumbledore hadn't over payment.

"Don't let me see you in the early hours again, Headmaster."

The door slammed shut. Allen opened a tiny gate out of Dumbledore's view and sent the wand to the musician's room. He would toy with it later.

"Everything else can be provided at the castle for convenience. I'm sure you would like to get some rest before you meet your charge. And perhaps take care of the mar on your face." The figure visibly twitched at the last remark.

"Albus…I trust you will leave that mattered untouched?"

"Of course."

They made it back to the house silently, apparating. Allen immediately went into the closet upstairs, much to the odd tilt of Molly's head. When she opened the door she found nothing inside. She closed the door, shrugging, thinking it must have been a hallucination.

Allen sat in the musician's room, facing a mirror. The scar that covered the entirety of the left side of his face had _grown_ in all his years of living. What had at first been a simple pentagram over his eye and a scar extended through that eye to his chin with a horizontal line and zig-zag inbetween had become more.

Now, his forehead's pentagram had grown larger. The horizontal line had become 14 hoirzontal lines, and the downward line from the pentagram turned upwards from his chin and went across the bridge of his nose before going back down to his chin.

He used the ark to summon forth a makeup kit. He applied, based on what Leanalee had taught him years ago when he had to hide his scar, all the things he knew and made the scar appear like it didn't exist. He knew, however, that this was temporary, and there were plenty of factors that could reveal the scar, including but not limited to: water, sweat, rubbing, or an akuma attack. The most latter would cause his scar to bleed, and that would instantly destroy the makeup.

With the makeup on it looked like there was nothing wrong with his face. He reached for the wand he had acquired, before turning to the piano and playing for an hour.

When over an hour had passed he made a gate, back into the closet at the house.

He stepped out, still wearing his hooded cloak. He had put on the Hogwarts robes underneath, and had kept the gloves on his hands. No one wanted to see his left arm, any who.

He went down to the kitchen. It was morning. He had played longer than he thought. There were two boys at the table, and they looked to be twins. There was also Molly and Arthur in the kitchen, along with Sirius. Sirius was off to the side drinking coffee, reading the newspaper, while Molly was scrubbing dishes and Arthur was scolding the boys for something or other.

"Good morning." Allen said, years of politeness engraved into his soul dictating his greeting.

"Good morning Mr. Walker!" Molly said, immediately beginning to cook a large meal for Allen, who supposed Dumbledore must have told her of his eating habits. The curse could no longer kill him, but it still kept his metabolism sky rocketed.

He sat down at the table, ignoring the twins who were looming over his shoulders and examining him quite audibly.

"Who's this fella'?"

"I dunno, George. Maybe 'es a new member of the Order." Sirius flashed them a stern glare, causing them to shut their mouths. Allen ignored that as well, taking it upon himself to devour all that was set before him without even appearing to move.

"Sirius." The man looked up from his newspaper.

"What?"

"Where is my charge?"

"He's upstairs, asleep. Don't worry, he's in a room with his best friend, you can wait till he wakes up." Allen shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What does he look like? I can't hear him from here." Sirius narrowed his eyes at the expression.

"He's got brown hair and a scar on his forehead. Wear's round glasses. Can't miss him." He turned back to his paper. Allen sighed, and slouched in his chair. The twins sat down across from him, eating their breakfast while sneaking glances at him every few seconds. Glances he noticed.

"So mate, what's with the hoody?" Fred asked.

"Fred!" Molly scolded, whacking her son on the head with a ladle. "That's rude!"

"It's alright, Molly." Allen said.

"He just doesn't want to take his hood off cause his face is…" Sirius trailed off when Allen pulled his hood off.

Whiter and brighter than snow bathed in sunshine, his hair was white. At first glance the twins thought it to be bleached…but even the eyebrows were white. And then there was his face, which _wasn't marred._

_What was he going on about yesterday, then?_ Sirius mused. _He probably used a spell or something to cover up his 'mar'. _ Then Sirius noticed how _young_ the face was.

"You're a bloody kid!" He exclaimed, nearly dropping his newspaper. Allen glanced over at him, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm older than you, only known escapee of Azkaban. You'd do well to understand that as well." He said in a dark tone, before closing his eyes and smiling wider than should be possible. It didn't escape Sirius attention that his left eye was tinted red, however slightly.

A thudding on the stairs caught everyone's attention. Allen could hear two new tunes; one of hope and overset expectations, and one of despair and a never ending courage. But in the second tune there was an underlying dark and foul tone.

"Good morning." Harry said, entering the kitchen.

"Mornin' Harry." The twins chorused, standing up together to put their plates in the sink.

"Harry, did you sleep well?" Sirius asked.

"It was fine, Sirius. It's great to get away from those-" Harry cut off his speech suddenly, and Ron, who hadn't entered the room yet, bumped into him.

"What gives?" Ron asked from behind, leaning over Harry's shoulder.

Before them sat a boy who looked younger than them with stark white hair. He wore a cloak and gloves. He had this…experience that leaked from his silver-blue eyes. Neither Harry nor Ron noticed the red tint.

"Good morning, Harry. And behind you, Ronald."

The boys didn't know what to do other than enter the kitchen in awkward silence.

"_who is that guy?" _Ron whispered to Harry as they spooned eggs onto plates.

"_I don't know! I've never met him before. Maybe he's from the Order._" They stopped whispering and went to the table.

"I'm not from the Order." The boy spoke again, a slight curl on the left side of his lips, making an askew half-smile.

"Oh-what?" Harry mused out loud. Just in time, Dumbledore entered the kitchen.

"Ah, good morning everyone. Allen, I see you've met Harry. He'll be an interesting charge for you, I'm sure."

"Charge?" Ron asked out loud. Dumbledore looked over at the boys, then sat down next to Allen.

"You didn't tell them?"

"It would sound odd if I just came out and told them that I was told to protect him."

"Who?" the boys chorused together, met with a gloved hand pointing at Harry, giving them their answer. Interupting, a thunking was heard on the stairs again, and Hermione Granger entered the kitchen, sitting down next to Harry and Ron without getting breakfast.

"Good morning…" she murmured as she took in the people sitting at the table. Dumbledore was there, a bit odd but not totally unexpected as they were hosting almost the entire order at the moment, and there was this kid with white hair sitting next to Dumbledore-what?

"Who're you supposed to be? You're not from the order." She immediately deduced.

"Ah, Hermione Granger, always the intuitive one. You should have been in Ravenclaw, they'd be so much better with your graces." The boy said in a tone and word choice that should have come from someone fifty years older than his appearance. "Ex-General of the Black Order and 14th Noah, Allen Walker."

Dumbledore and Sirius both raised their eyebrows at this. He hadn't mentioned this Noah before, and he was the 14th?

"I'm here to protect Harry from whatever comes his way until…" he said, pulling out a note from his pocket, one which neiher Dumbledore nor Sirius had seen, "The end of your days at Hogwarts." Knowing he would be asked for it, he handed the note to Dumbledore, who read it and then passed it to Sirius as he knew the other man would be curious as well.

_This instruction will last until Harry finishes school. Many thanks, and hopes for the best, host of Nea._

'Now what the hell is a Nea?' Both Sirius and Dumbledore thought. But they'd ask that later.

"I'm going to go and fetch some flour from the basement, got to make some more bread." Molly said, exiting the room, giving Sirius and Dumbledore her mother's eye; insuring that if anything happened to the children and Allen while she was gone, there would be multiple hells to pay.

"You're here to protect me?" Harry asked, crunching on a piece of bacon. "Why now? Since when has this been in place?"

"I only got the note three days ago. Not much time to get here from Switzerland if you have to train-jump. And yes, Harry James Potter, my sole purpose at the moment is to protect you. That's why I'm undergoing a guise as a student at Hogwarts to do so, per Albus' suggestion. I'd rather just follow you around, but I can see a point in keeping the protection low profile. Like it or not, Harry Potter, I'm one of your best friends _now_ and until you get out of school." Allen said, with a certain insinuation that if he _wasn't_ one of Harry's bestest friends, something _bad_ would happen.

And then they heard a scream. Dumbledore was on his feet immediately going to the source of the sound, while Allen had already left the room, darting down into the basement where the scream had come from.

Molly Weasley was crying. She flicked her wand again and again, each time the dead body before her turned into some other dead person. She kept yelling 'ridiculous' at the body, which obviously wasn't working.

Allen stepped in, between the body and Molly, not sure of what the body actually _was,_ at least not until it transformed.

"Allen? What have you done?!" The metallic skeleton screamed. "You turned me into an akuma! How could you Allen! How could you?! Allen Walker, I curse you!"

Allen fell to his knees at the sight of Mana Walker in his skeletal form. "Mana…" he whispered, unsure of what was happening. The form of the figure suddenly disappeared in a whiff of smoke. Allen turned his head to see Dumbledore with his wand raised at the place Mana had been moments before.

Allen stood up, locking away his emotions in a cold vault in the back of his mind, side by side with Neah.

"Allen-" Dumbledore started.

"Say nothing." Allen interrupted, raising one hand and dropping it suddenly, causing a gate from the ark to explode into existence. He walked into it, ignoring Dumbledore's shocked expression.


	2. Sorting,Bookman,Lenalee,sweet serenity

Allen sat on the piano bench, playing a sad melody on the ebony and ivory keys, his eyes closed and words he didn't fully understand coming from his lips.

_Passed on the way_

_Today's the day_

_We cast everything aside_

_Nothing more to come_

_Till tomorrow's done_

_And then surely_

_We will cry_

He finished, letting a single tear drip from his right eye as he played the final chord. He shuddered.

"Allen." A voice murmured. Allen turned to find Dumbledore in the room with him.

"Albus." Allen replied, reaching with one gloved hand to wipe his single tear away, careful not to mess up the makeup. "Welcome to the Musician's room."

Dumbledore could only gasp in wonder as he took in the full glory of the room, Allen hummed a simple tune while the room cascade in various shades of white. Written musical notes floated in the air above Albus' head. They seemed to dance like children around a campfire.

"Where is this place?" He asked, turning his gaze back to Allen, who was silently sliding his fingers on the piano's keys.

"This is the Ark. My sanctuary-no, the 14ths, the Musicians, Sanctuary. You must know the story of Noah's Ark?" Dumbledore's eyes widened and Allen smirked.

"This is the one and only."

"But-how?"

"The original ark was nothing but a giant wooden ship…but Noah delved deeper than that. Once he had completed the original ship he floated on the flooded earth, and he built this Ark. There are 14 rooms, and this is mine. I can control the gateway system and the rest of the Ark from here."

Allen sighed. "I'd prefer not to have other people in here. Please, let us exit."

With a flash, Dumbledore found himself back in the basement of Grimmauld Place.

"Tell no one." He heard from behind. In response, Dumbledore only nodded, a new found twinkle in his eyes.

They brought Ms. Weasely back upstairs and placed her in bed with the Twin's and Arthur's help. Allen stood off to the side as they did so.

The Order gathered in the kitchen, laying together plans as to how, tomorrow, they would get Harry onto the train, along with everyone else.

"What about Allen?" Shacklebolt asked, turning the attention of the group to the white haired boy. "What year is he supposed to be?"

"He's going to be sorted into his fifth year, the same as Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He's already read up on material up to the sixth year." This was true. Using the properties of the ark and a slow tune on the Musician's Piano, Allen slowed time long enough read all those books, _and_ understand them. He still hadn't even flicked his wand, though. Dumbledore offered that he would provide private practice in order to appear more wizard like with the wand, and to use it properly.

"Is he really as old as he says he is?" Another voice murmured.

"I'm a hundred and five. If you don't believe me that's your problem, not mine." Allen said, shutting the voice up. "I've got more experience than all of you combined, _including_ Albus. One does not simply become a General of the Black Order without knowing what to do." Allen said, allowing condescension to seep into his voice. Now was not the time to be polite and kind as he usually was.

"What is this Black Order you keep going on about, Allen?" Remus asked, leaning forward in his chair. "You keep saying you were a General of it." Allen smiled, ever so slightly.

"You're the first person to ask since I got here. Makes you smart. The Black Order was a collection of Exorcists about ¾ of a century ago. They're still active, but they've lost all major players. We were at war, much like you are with your Lord Vladmold or whatever he's called, with a man known as the Millennium Earl. He created living machines, monster weapons, known as Akuma. We destroyed them and killed the Earl. I was promoted to General after our success, and almost 15 years later I discharged myself."

"Why?"

"I was no longer needed. No one as powerful as myself would be needed to clean up any of the rusty Akuma left, they could all be taken care of by fledgling exorcists. I'd be _bored._ So I left my note on the painting and traveled the world."

There was a silence.

"What painting?" Sirius asked.

"You're smart as well, Sirius." The man snorted. "There was a giant painting placed on Hevlaskas's grave which I put a note on. Using the instructions on the note, someone could acquire my attention and ask for my assistance. That's why I'm here. Someone asked me to protect Harry, and I'm damned well going to do it."

"Huh." Was the general consensus.

They made plans to go to the train station early the next morning and concluded the meeting. Little did they know that Harry and his friends had been listening the entire time.

"_What's this whole Black Order nonsense he went on about?" _Ron asked when they got to their room.

"_I don't know, but I know what I'm researching when we get to Hogwarts."_ Hermione said.

Harry just slumped onto his bead, closing his eyes and falling asleep faster than he could blink.

When they woke the next morning Harry was feeling excellent. The well deserved sleep had provided him with energy. But he lost most of it when he tried to comprehend Allen coming out of the closet when he walked down the hall.

Why the _fuck_ was he in the closet?

_At the train station._

A black dog wagging its tail ran with the train to the edge of the train station. Allen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all gathered into one empty compartment. They sat in awkward silence.

"Harry." The boy whose name was spoken lifted his head to Allen.

"What?"

"Who would have called me?"

"What?" Harry repeated.

"I know you were listening in on the Order's meeting. You know what I'm talking about. There was no name attached to the notes that called me. Who do you think might have done it?"

"Dumbledore?" Harry speculated.

"Not him. He didn't know about the Noah. Who else?"

"Umm…a member of the Order?"

"Oh, come on Harry! Think outside the box."

"Voldemort." Harry said, eyes narrowing and his lips pursing. Allen clapped, mockingly,

"Excellent deduction, Harry Potter. Ten points to whatever house you are again. Voldee needs me hear for some reason, whatever reason it is, it involves you and me. I doubt The Earl is back, but if he is…" Allen shuddered for a moment. "Either way. Keep your eyes open, and don't let anyone you don't know get into your space. I can only hear so much, Harry."

Harry shifted himself nervously as Allen closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the seat. Then the door opened. Allen had moved so fast that neither Harry nor Malfoy, who had opened the door, could comprehend what had just happened.

"Draco Malfoy." Allen said. "You're…no, you're no bother." He said, simply standing in front of Draco with his head tilted to the side, shaking it before he sat back down.

"Who's your new friend, Potter? Another mudblood? Or is it perhaps just another Gryffindor slob?" he asked, sneering the entire time, already forgetting how fast Allen moved.

"Shut up, Draco."

"Watch your tone, Potter! I'm a Prefect now!"

"Yeah, well, you're a git, so shut up." Ron and Hermione snickered while Allen just quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused with the situation.

"How's your father, Draco?" Allen asked, taunting the Slytherin Prefect. Draco's eyes widened when he understood what Allen meant.

"Oh, the new one's got spunk. I'll remember you, white-haired-twit." Draco said, turning around to leave.

"And I you, Freshly Cooked." Draco paused, stock still before turning back to Allen with a look of abject horror on his face. His eyes narrowed. Allen grinned wider than should be possible, one eye still staring into Malfoy's soul.

Draco ran.

"What did you mean, Freshly Cooked?" Hermione asked.

"He just became a death eater recently. That's the term for a brand new death eater; Freshly Cooked." The three other people in the car's jaws dropped.

"We can finally get Malfoy kicked out!" Ron cheered, but Allen raised a hand, silencing him. His eyes opened, an odd softness that the trio hadn't seen before present in them.

"He doesn't want to be one. And he doesn't like the task he has been given. Don't do anything, I'll talk to Dumbledore about it myself."

Meanwhile, Draco was pacing in his Cabin.

_How did he know? Does he have something like Mad-Eye-Moody's eye? Or-is __**he **__a death eater too?! _Draco stopped pacing, and sat down on his bench. _I've got to calm down. He said it like he had known it already, so I can assume he's not going to say anything about it. He's probably someone Voldemort sent undercover to kill Harry and his friends. I hope so._

When they arrived at Hogwarts they arrived in Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade was big. Big meant people got lost easily. Allen followed Harry like it was a new religion. They approached the carriages.

"Thestrals." Allen murmured, knowing what the creatures were from a textbook he had read. Harry, he noticed, could see the creatures as well. Neither Hermione nor Ron could, though.

They entered a carriage and were off to Hogwarts, arriving less than ten minutes later and filing into the great hall in preparation for the first year's arrival. Allen knew he'd be sorted along with them. He also knew that, thanks to Dumbledore, he'd have his own room. And based on the twinkle in the old man's eye, Allen would be getting a room with a piano in it, which pleased him greatly.

The first years filed into the room, all of them looking nervous and unnerved by the larger people surrounding them as they made their way towards the front of the great hall. An old wizard's hat was placed onto a stool, Allen noticed as he joined the first years, casting a glance back towards Harry every few seconds.

Then the hat sang.

It's song was music to Allen's ears. It told a story of how Hogwarts was created, how the hat was made, and how that this year, more than ever, the houses must unite. ((would have put the song here but it's too much of a pain to copy it as it comes in an odd format from the website)).

"Walker, Allen!" The headmistress called after every first year student had gone. The entire student body focused on him as he approached the stool and placed the cap on his head…which screamed.

The hat. It was _screaming_

"Oh, chiddling chocolate frogs, it _burns!_ I haven't seen a curse like this since I sorted Harry Potter!" This got the crowd whispering. Allen reached up and poked the hat with his innocence imbued left arm.

"Er-yeah, I'll be silent now." The hat went quiet under threat of exorcism.

_So, curses again huh? You've been through a lot, Allen Walker. And what's this? Neah Walker is in here as well? No matter, we're focusing on you. You've got compassion to match a Hufflepuff with the brains of a Ravenclaw, that's for sure. And your damned brave enough to be the head of Gryffindor house, as well as old enough too. But you've got a deep, deep sense of money grubbing and cheating, don't you? Insurmountable almost. I guess it'll have to be-"_

_"_SLY-"

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo pe." Allen said, interrupting the shout.

_What the Bloody Baron do you mean, nope? You can't just ride off my opinion like that. You may be old, but I'm still older!_

"_It's my decision, anyways, Felix. I've got to protect the boy-who-lived, and you're gonna make it easy for me."_

_Right. Well. How did you know my name?_

_"There are some advantages to being the Musician, oh Felix of Felfire."_

_Ha! Aren't you full of suprises, ageless one? Fine then. I'll oblige you, if you'll do me a favor._

_"And that would be?"_

_Talk to me in Dumbledore's office every once in a while. It's nice to have another undying being around._

_"As you wish, Felix."_

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted, silencing the people who were imitating Allen's "noooooooooooooooooope."

The red tied table cheered in a fury of whoops and cat calls, most of which came from the girls. Allen placed the hat on the stool tenderly before approaching the table, sitting down next to Harry, giving a strained smile.

"That was eventful."

"How did you do that?" Ron asked. "I've never heard of anyone refusing the sorting hat before!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, 'cept you 'course, Harry."

"It's up to you in the end anyways. I chose Gryffindor for convenience." Allen said as Dumbledore stood up, drawing everyone's attention.

"Welcome to, and welcome back to, Hogwarts!" Cheer's came from the students and Hagrid gave an enthusiastic clapping, a giant grin on his giant face. "I'm sure you all had an interesting summer. I would like to remind everyone that the forbidden is, surprisingly enough, Forbidden. That means you, Fred and George Weasley." The twins high fived.

"I have a few other announcements including-"

"Hem" to the fucking "hem."A pink _thing_-no, was that a **person?!** Stood up and interrupted the headmaster.

"Thank you for those kind words of welcome, Headmaster." She spoke in a voice meant for a child, or an elderly senile grandmother. She might have fit the second one, but she didn't look too old and probably didn't have kids. She droned on and on, even Allen found himself drooling with boredom. When she finished she sat down and Dumbledore got back up from his chair like nothing had happened.

"Thank you, Dolores. Miss. Umbridge will be taking the place of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professorship."

"No!" Harry called out. Allen placed a hand on his arm, silencing him.

Dumbledore continued. "There is also an interesting happening this year: The Hogwarts Music Room has been relocated after several decades of unknown placement. It's located across the hall from the Great Hall, through the painting of the Bookman Lavi." Allen couldn't contain his laughter. He could only imagine the perverted things the painted Lavi had gotten himself into once he was installed. Several other students stared as he let out a cackle. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Mr. Walker was acquainted with the Bookman as a child. Perhaps you could ask him for the reason behind his laughter once we have finished the meal. Now, everyone, tuck" the fuck "in!"

Food appeared on the tables when Dumbledore's ass hit his chair. Allen was immediately piling food a mile high on his plate.

"Uh, Allen, don't you think that's a bit much?" Harry asked as he nervously glanced over at the growing pile.

"Yeah, Allen, leave some for the rest of us!" Ron said, looking at Allen from behind the pile.

"I'm _hungry._" Allen said, digging in.

It was a spectacle unlike any other. Hilarious as when Malfoy was turned into a Ferret, and as scary as a Dementor. The food was being _in-fuckin-haled. _And Allen wasn't even slowing down. When his plate was cleared there was an awkward silence.

"Is there any more?" He asked, causing everyone who heard to fall off their chairs in laughter.

* * *

They filtered out of the room and the trio turned to walk to the common room but they turned back when they saw Allen chatting with Bookman Lavi.

"So was anyone else painted here?"

"Hmm…I don't know about Komui or Link, but I know Yuu-chan was in a painting placed in the Gryffindor common room."

"That's probably my room. Dumbledore put it in there for convenience."

"I'd assume so. So, Allen, how's life?"

"Good, I suppose. I won the war I went through a decade ago. Now I'm protecting Harry Potter."

"Ah, I know him. I saw him a few times over these past few years. I've been painted here since I died, you know. That was, when again?"

"1946."

"Heh. The real me crammed as much knowledge as he could into me. I couldn't get all of it-that's why there are several paintings of me hidden throughout the castle. But I know everything when it comes to relationships, Allen. I was lucky enough to pull the short straw-some other guys got stuff like knowing everything about rules."

"heh. Let me in, I wanna see what Dumbledore put together." The painting swung open and Allen walked in, followed by Harry, Hermione, and Ron a few moments later. Allen was laughing again. It was an odd cross between a cackle and snicker.

"He even enchanted the piano to make the notes float in air-that's too funny!" Allen said in between squeals of delight. He walked over to the piano and wiped his gloved hands on the surface.

"He tried to copy you…he almost got it, except for the fourth petal. Heh." Allen opened up the piano and placed his hands on the keys, letting the musician within him flow out of him as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down around him in amazement.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office. He smiled, knowing the enchantments on the piano didn't just include floating notes. As Allen, and Allen alone began to play, the song drifted about the castle, broadcasted like a muggle radio station would broadcast a song.

The students walking down hallways simply stopped and listened to the sound surrounding them. Some cried.

_And as we draw_

_Lines between the stars_

_I call and you answer_

_Tracing your fingers about mine_

_Lenalee, sweet serenity_

_You were there for me_

_But now you're gone_

_Gone_

_Gone_

_You are not painted on the wall_

_But I hold a picture of you _

_On my chest_

_Tight as night_

_Just as right_

_Lenalee,_

_I love you_

The song ended and Hermione found tears soaking her cheeks. So did Ron and Harry. So did almost everyone else in the castle. Students filled the hallways, leaning on each other, sobbing their eyes out. Hell, Blaise Zabini was holding Dean to his chest, rocking back and forth slowly.

Allen closed the piano gently, patting the wood gently with his left hand before standing up. When he did he found himself held tightly by three fifth year Gryffindors. They held him close, already having wiped their tears away, but held him nonetheless. Gently, he wrapped his arms around them for a moment before pushing them away, a large grin on his face.

"Come on. Let's head to the common room. I'd rather not dwell on the past."


	3. Sadness and Severus, the beginning

As they entered the Gryffindor common room Allen found himself facing plenty of red eyed and slick cheeked fifth years, all of which did the same thing as Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He answered their reaction with a laugh, returning their compassion with a hug back.

Allen walked away from the still teary eyed students over to a painting of a familiar samurai.

"Yuuuuuuuu~…" he said sweetly. The figure turned around, his eyes wide as the moon itself.

"Moyashi?!" He screeched, voice cracking.

"BaKanda! It's Allen! A-L-L-E-N! You'd think after all this time you'd get it into your head!"

"Shut up, bean sprout."

"Cut your hair already!"

"Grow a few inches!"

"If you weren't a painting I'd kick your ass!" Then Allen stopped, mouth still open. He closed it, ashamed, and lowered his head.

"I'm sorry, Yuu. I couldn't fix the curse."

"Che. Baka Moyashi, there was nothing you could have done." The swordsman said, crossing his arms, holding the sword across his chest.

A significant amount of the common room was watching. Whispers were darting between students.

"he knows that painting?-

"What curse?-"

"What's a bah-kah moy-yosh-ee?"

Allen didn't hear them, though. He reached forward and placed his left hand on the painting, still gloved. The figure in the painting matched the gesture.

"Che. Maybe you did get taller, Baka-Moyashi." The painting said, turning slightly red cheeks away, scowling worse than ever.

"Open the door, Kanda." The figure waved a sword.

"You've got to decide on a password. Can't have other people opening the door." Allen nodded, tilting his head and closing his eyes to think of a password.

"You think of something yet, Moyashi?"

"It's Allen, BaKanda, and no, shut up."

"Che."

Allen thought over his options in his head before deciding.

"Hevlaska." He whispered. The samurai smirked.

"Chances of anyone else alive knowing that password? Nil. Good choice, Moyashi." Kanda said as he opened the painting. The room was almost the same as the original musicians room. The Hogwarts Music room, while having some aesthetic aspects of the musicians room, didn't have the white walls, the mirror, the vanity, the alabaster piano bench, or the drawing of Timcampy etched into the floor. This room did, thought the drawing was a bit big, and there were very slight issues with the rooms dimensions, but Allen couldn't help but let out a laugh when he saw how thoroughly Dumbledore had tried to make his room appear like his room. The bed was a bonus. It was made of a solid black-ebony, Allen guessed-frame and consisted of white sheets with a black blanket over them with the Black Order cross on it.

"This…this is nice." Allen though as he laid down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He laid there for about ten minutes as he listened to the common room's tune through the wall. It wasn't sound proof, something that surprised Allen. Dumbledore surely wouldn't want him waking the students up. Allen got off the bed and walked over to his suitcase, having been brought here by a house elf. Reaching in he pulled out his old outfit, the one he wore before he had been a member of the Black Order.

It was almost like a butler uniform, but it looked better. Allen straightened the ribbon he used as a tie in the mirror, respectfully nodding to the shadow that stood behind him. It nodded back, silent as ever.

Neah's goal had been completed. Now he could just watch.

Allen walked out of the room after making sure his makeup was covering his scar. The common room was still pretty full even though it was nearly 11:30 at night. Allen found there was a small painting of Timcampy across the room, and he poked the painting, with a sense a longing throbbing in his chest.

He had _lost_ Timcampy. Lost him in the depths of who knows where over three decades ago. Allen could only hope the little Golem was doing alright. He had no way of telling whether or not the Golem was alright until it showed up. Hopefully the little ball of gold would find him soon.

"Allen?" a voice asked. Allen turned around to find several girls he didn't recognize surrounding him. They herded him over to the couch where they surrounded him once more. They all had this creepy fangirl look on their face, one which Allen could only remember one thing in relation to: Onion bombs.

"Allen…who was she?" The question made Allen tilt his head until he realized what she was talking about. The girl before him looked to be of Asian descent, just like Lenalee. She didn't have the green hair though, the thought of which made Allen's heart throb once again. He let out a sigh and hunched over, hands together on his lap.

"She was…" well, he couldn't just go out and say he had already been married when he was guising as a teenager. "She was the best thing that ever happened to me." That should be ambiguous enough, Allen thought to himself.

"W-what happened?" Another girl asked. Allen did _not_ like thinking about what happened. The way Lenalee had passed away was silently after telling him she loved him. He held her hand as she faded away, dying a middle aged woman. The innocence had its perks, but the life force of Lenalee was sapped because of it., but _he_ was stuck here till he turned to ash.

"She died." He said, blunt as could be. He didn't want to talk about it. He stood up, ignoring the girls cries of protest, before walking into the boys dormitory to check on Harry. He needed to get his mind off of Lenalee before he started…crying.

"Harry?" he asked, entering the room. Harry was sitting on his bed, tossing jelly beans to Ron and Seamus and Dean. They were all laughing and having a good time.

"Yeah Allen?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. Just checking up on things." Allen said, not able to bear the happiness before him. He darted out of the room. He could feel tears starting to form at the edges of his eyes. He was known for his poker face….but that all came crashing down when it came to Lenalee. She was different from Mana. He had been dealing with Mana since he was a child, but he couldn't deal with Lenalee the same way. He moved through the common room, a single tear dropping from his face, making a slight noise when it hit the ground.

"Hevlasa." He muttered, and Kanda opened the door, not asking questions. The door closed behind him and Allen went to the piano, beginning a sad song once again. Everyone who was in the common room and the dorm rooms could hear him, though slightly muffled in volume, not in words.

_Why did you pass on_

_Why did you leave me behind_

_I've been cursed to roam the earth_

_Until I turn to ash_

_I cannot see you_

_But I hold you close_

_Here's to hoping your more than a ghost_

_Lenalee, I love your heart and soul_

_I was proud to know your name_

_Proud to be your shame_

_Proud to be your husband_

_And you my wife_

_Just for a little while_

_Just for a little while_

The spoken lyrics ended with the final phrase sounding hoarse and cracking. Now the piano continued to play, along with a muffled sobbing.

The song brought new revelations to everyone. Lenalee was not just his girlfriend or lover or something, no, he had been _married _to her. Not something Allen wanted anyone else to know, especially the students, but it had already come out. Allen stopped playing with a loud and broken chord, getting off the piano and ripping his clothes off before drifting into his bed.

Allen had been _married._ Now for the trio this came as a revelation of great mystery and sincerity..to most of the girls and boys though it meant that Allen probably wasn't a virgin. But they all took the sorrow of the song to heart, and there were more than a few muffled sobs coming from the girls dorm while the boys sat in silent contemplation, unable to continue their fun and games.

An unsettling silence was cast over the castle. Allen slept.

But other people were awake. Wide awake, and trying to figure out how the damn enchantment on the piano in the Music Room worked. Umbridge knew that boy, Allen Walker, had been playing so loud that the entire castle had heard. She didn't cry when she heard the song, all she could think of was somehow punishing the child for broadcasting his song. But how had he done it?

The man in the portrait had eyed her with a giant grin on his face before letting her in, saying with obvious glee in his voice, "Good luck." She examined the piano thoroughly, casting spell after spell. She couldn't detect a single thing. In frustration she sat down in the brown piano bench and pressed a few keys. It made a broken chord, and it sounded terrible. No sound was broadcast. In frustration she began to slam her hands on the keyboard, and then she was interrupted by someone entering the room.

"Excuse me, _Professor, _but I would be interested to use that piano for more than a slapping device." Snape said, approaching the piano. Umbridge huffed before smiling sweetly and stood up off the piano bench.

"Good luck to you, Severus. Hem hem, I think the blasted thing is broken." She said in a childish voice as she walked out of the door. Once the door had closed Snape sat down on the piano bench, eyeing the keys with interest. The last time he had seen a piano…

He pressed his fingers in a familiar chord. The sound was pleasing to his ear and he attached an arpeggio with his left hand as he recalled various chord progressions from when he was younger. And for the first time in quite a while, Severus smiled. He could remember a song he had learned from when he was younger, but he didn't know the words. He played the piano as he hummed what he knew the lyrical pitch to be.

_Hmm hmm hmm..._

_Da da da doo da dee…_

_And really bad eggs…_

He laughed to himself.

"Enjoying the piano, Severus?" A familiar voice asked. Severus continued playing, knowing full and well whose voice had called out.

"You should have told me about this place years ago, Headmaster. I would have put it to thorough use."

"Well, I would have…except it didn't exist before this year." The headmaster said as he dodged a scale flying through the air. The notes were bright blue and were wafty like smoke. You could stick your finger through them, but they were cold as a ghost.

"Hmm?" Severus questioned as he began to play a Sonata.

"I created this for Allen Walker. He sometimes needs an outlet, after all, ageless beings have seen a lot more than we have."

"I suppose. You told me, however, that he can create his own room whenever and wherever he wishes. Why create this?" Severus asked, glancing over at Dumbledore.

"Severus, I think that Music is a magic all it's own. It's something we haven't properly had at Hogwarts since its creation. I believe Allen's skills, songs, melodies, rhythms, and his stories should be shared with the students. Ah, better to give than to hold to ones self, I recall."

Severus felt his lips twinge upward. "I suppose I'll thank the man at some point for coming here. He is, after all, twice my age."


	4. Bound to the Paint, key to the Cryptex!

_Here's the next chapter. I felt pretty down since I had left a promise for you all that I'd get it by the end of the week, which I bet was pretty disappointing. So, I rushed through all my work (meaning I didn't do any of it, hehe) and wrote this next part. I hope you enjoy it, as this is one of the first turns in the plotline, and_ **possibly**_ the beginning's for a side story (held in a different chapter at a later date, not a totally different story)._

_I hope you enjoy, and I hope to write the next chapter by the end of the week!_

_-"whispering"_

_-_"talking"

-_thinking or emphasis, or **super emphasis**_

* * *

Allen woke with a searing pain coming from his face, the same pain that came every single night for the past ten years. Why? Well, he hadn't killed an Akuma in ten years, and his cursed eye was getting _hungry._

He placed his scaly left hand on his face, massaging his forehead and his cheekbone in an attempt to calm his eye. He got out of bed and fished through his attire from yesterday to check his golden pocket watch. It was early; almost 5:00 in the morning, but time didn't really affect Allen anymore.

He crossed his room and entered his private shower, letting the water clean away his blood and tears and the sweat from the previous day. He found the warm water calmed his eye, and he stood there in the same position for nearly ten minutes, letting the water splash his face.

When he got out of the shower he adorned his gloves and his robe, moving to the vanity and applying the same makeup he had used last time, the same way-the thought of Lenalee threatened him with tears, but he forced them back. With a heavy breath he finished his work and moved away from the vanity as quickly as he could, grabbing his bag and exiting his room, and closing the painting behind him.

"Moyashi." He turned around, and would have entered a full on rant if he hadn't seen the pensive, _concerned_ look on the usually scowling Samurai's face.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." Allen replied, turning away slightly. "I just needed a good cry. I'm fine now."

"Che. You know you told everyone in this common room you and Lenalee were married, right?"

"What? When-"

"When you were bawling your eyes out last night on the piano." The samurai supplied, now back to his scowling guise.

"Oh."

"Good luck dealing with the aftermath." Allen huffed at the nickname and turned around, about to walk away when he heard:

"Stay safe, Al-uh, Moyashi."

Allen stopped dead, turning back around to look at the samurai, who was now turned away, furiously blushing where no one could see it.

"Did-did you almost say my name, there, Kanda? Did my _brain_ stutter?"

"Go away." Kanda grunted, still turned around. Alex smiled to himself, turning away and exiting the common room.

The halls of Hogwarts were still very much asleep at 6:00 in the morning. Allen, having a lousy sense of direction that almost 90 years of living didn't fix, got lost. He roamed and roamed, every once in a while shifting the bag on his shoulder so it wouldn't be uncomfortable. Breakfast would start at 8:00, so he had plenty of time to mill around.

He soon found himself at the door of the Library. Unsure of where to go or how to find his way towards anywhere but _here_, he approached the door and attempted to turn the knob. For whatever reason the meticulous and overbearing self-entitled Overlord of the Library, otherwise known as Madam Pince, had left the place unlocked and able for Allen to enter.

He opened the door slowly; unsure of whether this was a trap to catch students in the act. But when no alarm went off and no one was yelling in his face, he declared the library all-clear. He took six steps before the door abruptly closed behind him. He went back to it and found: locked. Now he was stuck.

He wandered the mazes of books for almost an hour before he accidently tripped over a _something_ on the floor. Turning back he found an impossibly thick book laying on the ground, which he gripped with both hands and brought over to a table with some strain on his part (the thing was _damn_ heavy.)

He examined the book and found it covered in dust, which he wiped off with a gloved hand. There were no words printed on the front, nor on the spine.

How curious.

He opened the book's cover and examined the first page.

_Dear Reader,_

_ Imagine that objects have parallels. This is the Dictionary of Desideratum, a book parallel to the Room of Requirement. _

_ You will find what you need, not what you want, within these pages._

_ Unless what you need is my sister, -…_

Allen thought those last words to be very familiar. He scratched his head at the signature he found at the very bottom of the page. It was hard to make out, but he could make out:

_K-moi –ee_

No way. Allen shook his head in disbelief. He knew that name; there was no one else who would have such a ridiculous name. And he smiled. Komui had left a legacy at Hogwarts too, he supposed. He patted the book with one hand and then went to turn the page.

He _tried_ to turn the page. He found it was sealed to the next page. And that page to the one after that. The first two _thousand_ pages were sealed to each other, he realized once he had yanked the pages hard enough. When the ten inch thick book finally fell open on another page, he found something he _definitely _hadn't been looking for.

The middle of all the pages, including the ones he had just pulled, all had their middle cut out.

Within the open space that the cutout created there was an odd cylinder with symbols on the dials that circled around it. He pulled it out gently, as it looked rather fragile. As he examined the cylinder in his hands he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a note that was underneath the cylinder in the bottom of the book.

_Much better than an owl _

_Faster than most waterfowl_

_It comes it multiple hues_

_Some of them are blue_

_But yours is __**gold**_

_And within its hold_

_You will find the answer faster_

_Though this means, unfortunately, talking to your __**master**_

Allen stared at the note, then back at the cylinder. He guessed the cylinder had some great secret inside; but in order to receive that secret he would have to find….what? His was _gold?_ What did he have that was made of gold?

He pulled out his golden pocket watch and almost opened it when he saw the engraving of the little golem on its cover.

_Timcanpy._

He put the watch back, reading over the note again before shoving it into his pocket and placing the cylinder into his bag before beginning his search for the door.

Ten minutes past seven, he found it. And it was open again. He exited the room and thought over the note as he meandered down the hall.

He needed Timcanpy, he understood that much. Apparently Timcanpy had the answer to whatever was in this little puzzle-cylinder. But why did he need master? And where would he-

"Hey there, cutie. I don't usually go for oldies, but your hips are just my size." A familiar voice said, causing Allen to shiver in fear of debts being placed upon him. He turned to face the wall slowly and found himself face to face with a man with red hair and a mask covering the right side of his face, half a pair of glasses on the right.

The man's expression was that of lust and burning passion, easily shown by the colors that imbued him to a painting on the wall. But the man's expression turned horrified when he recognized the 'old-y' in front of him.

"B-b-b-brat?! What the-oh, oh god, no, now I'm thinking of _your_ face while I was –gah! That is _not_ something I want to imagine!" the painting yelled covering his face and spinning around as though he was surrounded by fire.

"Master? What-why are you a painting?" Allen asked, causing the man to drop his hands and turn his expression serious.

"Ever gotten on the bad side of a wizard, brat?"

"No, I don't think-"

"Well _don't,_ because if you can't pay your debts back to them you can be damn sure they'll bind you to a painting!" The man yelled, pressing his hands against the parchment, _causing it to move. _Allen actually reeled back against the other wall; paintings shouldn't be able to do that. Not now, not ever.

"Aren't you just a painting of my master?" Allen asked, pushing himself off the wall and approaching the painting.

"I'm not a conjuration or a cheap trick! I'm your master, General Cross Marian, and I'm stuck in a painting."

"_If only you could introduce yourself like that at an alcoholic's anonymous meeting." _Allen whispered to himself. "Look, master, that's great and all but-"

"But what? Aren't you gonna help your master get out of his imprisonment? I mean, sure, I've been kept the exact same age since I was stuck in here and I've gotten to look at plenty of hot school girls this entire time, but I'd rather _exist._"

Allen crossed his arms. "Do you know where Timcanpy would go if he wasn't with me? Or, rather, with you, while you were in control of him?" Cross's slightly insane expression shifted once again.

"You _lost _him?"

"I-I didn't lose him, I just-"

"You **_lost _**Timcanpy?! Stupid apprentice, do you have _any_ idea how stressful it is for a golem to be separated from its master?"

"Probably, yeah." It took a moment for Allen's words to sink in. Cross's expression softened.

"Apocryphos got the best of me while I was there. I managed to snag Judgement back from him a few years later after you killed the Earl, but I didn't know where you had went. Soon after my debts caught up to me and I was trapped in here. Release me from the painting and I'll help you find Timcanpy."

Allen could not believe his ears, but, he ignored his disbelief's and against his better judgement reached out and pulled on the parchment, pulling it out of the frame. It burned to a crisp in his hand, turning to ashes and falling to the ground just like the Earl's head had when he killed him.

He looked back at the empty picture frame, which had a yellow glow coming from it's now empty center. It suddenly darkened as the shape of a foot materialized, coming out of the brightness. It turned into a leg, then two legs, then an arm, and then the entire body of General Cross Marian was present.

"It's good to be real again."

"So you'll help me find Timcanpy now?"

"Pfft! Hell no, I have no idea where the little piece of junk is. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to be going to a bar, now, and acquire some sexing's for the first time in two years." He turned to go but stopped when he noticed Allen pull something out of his bag and hold that something out.

He could almost feel his heartbeat stop for a few seconds before starting up again.

"Brat…where did you find a cryptex?"

"Is that what it's called?" Allen asked as Cross took the cylinder-or, cryptex, as it was called- from his hands to examine it. "I found it in the Dictionary of Desideratum, and you won't believe who created it-"

"Komui."

"How'd you-"

"Once that nut-job discovered magic he was all over it in a second. He also got into puzzle-making at that same time. Funny coincidence this is happening, and also distantly related to why that wizard put me in the painting."

"Why was that, anyways-no, wait, you already said it was debts, so I'll ask a better question: Master, how did you have sex two years ago if you've been sealed in a painting for so long?"

His master looked confounded. "Brat, are you telling me you didn't notice the massive whole in the painting where my d-"

"Say no more, I don't want to think about it. No, I _really_ don't want to think about it because _you hit on me while my back was turned._ Evil, perverted, womanizing master!"

"Always-lost, lousy, idiot apprentice! Not my fault you've got a woman's ass!" Cross shouted back. The silence lasted a few moments before Cross straightened completely and juggled the cryptex in his hands.

"I'll find Timcanpy and crack the cryptex. Deal with whatever happens here by yourself, brat."

Allen watched as the man he called master turned around, and, as Allen blinked, disappeared. He hesitated for a moment before turning around.

_Does my ass really-no, not thinking about it, not thinking about it…_

He checked his watch as he walked to his left. And then ran.

* * *

Breakfast was in ten minutes and Allen didn't want to be late, as well as wanting to talk to Lavi about what had just happened. Luckily, the stars seemed to align and Allen was able to find his way back to the Music Room with five minutes left before the doors across the hall opened to let everyone in.

"Allen~!" The former Bookman called out, jumping against the painting without pushing it as Cross had.

"Lavi, had you known Master had been a painting here?" This question appeared to have been the last thing on Lavi's mind.

"Uh…I had assumed you'd rather not know, considering every time you see each other you get called stupid and he gets called perverse and it goes on and on and-"

"Yeah, Lavi, I get it. Anyways, I want you to get in touch with your other paintings and see if they know anything about what a cryptex is. It's a little cylinder with dials on the side that need to be sequenced properly in order for it to open, and apparently the key to opening it lies with Timcanpy."

"Roger!" Lavi said as he mocked salute, smiling his still handsome smile before he jumped out of the picture frame, leaving only the grassy garden he had been standing in behind, but not before opening the door for Allen.

Allen entered the room and it was the same as before; a white piano in the middle of the dusty room, only brightened by the candles that floated above it. Allen sat down and began to play, the sound echoing in the hallways.

This time, people laughed and smiled.

_Good Morning, Good Morning, _

_It's time for breakfast, not snoring_

_Grab a plate, pile it high_

_Or kiss a chance to eat goodbye_

_Why you ask, what's the rush?_

_Let me paint a picture without a brush_

_Though the platters are full and lush_

_Food stacked high will be nullified_

_And if you don't get it I'll just tell you why:_

_I've got an appetite bigger than the big blue sky._

The laughter in the halls was more than enough to make Allen smile as he stood up from the piano, having finished his improvisation. He stopped moving as he saw a man in a dark robe with a nose like a witch and hair greasier than grease itself leaning in the doorway.

He was, however, clapping, so Allen assumed the best.

"Well done, Mr. Walker. I haven't felt so giddy since I blew up the Headmaster's birthday cake while I went to school here. I'm Professor Snape, I'll be teaching you potions in a few periods." The professor held out a hand and Allen took it and shook.

"Pleasure to meet you, Professor. I look forward to your class, and hopefully we can-"

"Mr. Walker!" A shrill, overly childish voice coming from a certain **_pink toad_** interrupted.


	5. Accusations and Burner,Punishment Dealt!

_"Ha-HA!"-Claptrap, Borderlands 2_

_Another day, another chapter. I sort of did a rush job on it, but...eh. Tell me what you think, and if you aren't getting something or you notice a mistake somewhere, tell me in a review, much obliged.  
_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Umbridge stood in the doorway a few feet away from the still-hands-shaking Allen and Snape. She had a look on her face that could be called psychotic: her eyes were bulging and her teeth were showing a wide grin with drool coming out the corner of her mouth as she _hissed_ between her teeth-but in Umbridge's case, this meant she was happy.

She's one crazy bitch, I tell you.

She had her wand in one hand, but it wasn't gripped tightly and she hadn't raised it yet, nor did she as she walked forward towards the now not-shaking-hands Allen and Snape.

"Mr. Walker, I'd like for you to explain why your garbage is being echoed through the halls; don't you think the students have better things to do than listen to you sing nursery rhymes?"

The wand in her hand twitched in anticipation of perhaps being used to inflict pain upon the innocent child before her (except Allen was _not_ a child).

"I don't have an explanation; though I do have speculation that-"

"Mr. Walker! That'll be twenty points from Gryffindor and detention with me for the week for unauthorized use of magic!" She screeched her smile akin to a Joker. But Snape stepped forward, not quite in front of Allen but the gesture was understood well enough.

"Miss Umbridge, I believe you would have to verify that Mr. Walker has actually caused the event; perhaps someone else has set an enchantment on the piano without Mr. Walker knowing?"

"Oh, he knew alright! He knew yesterday when he played that garbage about his girlfriend, and he knew now! Mr. Walker, your wand! I'll verify it myself!" She held out her hand, expectantly. When she received no wand she looked up at the boy's face, which had become furrowed and shadowed as an almost corporeal dark aura emitted from him. But he suddenly shifted, and was smiling like a fox, eyes closed.

"Miss Umbridge, please, do not insult Lenalee. I may not be able to control myself the next time you do so, and you may end up…**_damaged._**" He said, in a quiet but very _cold_ voice. Umbridge could feel herself shaking involuntarily; this _student,_ this **_brat_**, had the gall to threaten her but she had a feeling that he would keep his promises, no matter how dark they were.

She forced herself to stop shaking. "Your wand." She repeated. Allen pulled his wand out and _switched_ it into her hand, so hard that it would possibly leave a bruise. Umbridge winced, but she gripped the wand and took it.

"_Prior Incantatum."_ She said, waiting for the wand to signal her which spell had been cast. But the wand did nothing. It didn't shoot sparks out, didn't glow, didn't change color, and didn't do _anything._

"You'll find a problem with examining my wand for a spell I haven't cast; because I haven't cast _any_ spells with it yet." As Severus watched from the sidelines he could almost see lightning bolts shoot between the two of them as they tried to kill each other with thought alone.

Reluctantly Umbridge gave Allen his wand back, turning her attention to the piano. She raised her wand and pointed it at the piano.

_"Revelareveneficii, lepores,et devotionibus."_She said, and a golden light spewed from her wand, coating the piano in what appeared to be a thick layer of honey to the casual observer, but it was actually condensed light. Snape raised an eyebrow.

_Only a person of the ministry whose job it is to expose people would know such a spell_, he thought. _If I recall properly, she was thoroughly stating her intention was to take over Hogwarts in her speech…but she isn't limiting herself to that. She's obviously trying to get at the students as well._

The golden light faded away, revealing several purple, green, orange, blue, pink, and almost every other color known patches all over the piano.

"Well, Mr. Walker? What do you have to say?"

"Dolores, few of these enchantments could be completed by a fifth year and those are nothing but _tuning_ charms. At most Mr. Walker is to be reprimanded for, what, piano maintenance?"

"I'm well aware of a fifth years limitations, Severus, but I think it's safe to say Mr. Walker is not your typical fifth year. He probably stole someone's wand or-"

"Dolores, I think you're stretching the situation past its limits. The piano has only echoed for Mr. Walker, but perhaps the enchantments and charms only apply to students. And I believe you are making us _all_ late to breakfast, so, excuse us." Severus said as he placed one hand on Allen's shoulder, gently pushing him out of the room.

Umbridge felt like she would _explode._ But when she inevitably did, she had no idea where she would vent that anger except towards _Allen Walker. _

She straightened her skirt and breathed deeply for a few moments before putting a big grin on her face.

_Rest assured, Mr. Walker, I _will **end **_you._

The painting had closed behind them. Snape released Allen's shoulder and sighed before leaning forwards and whispering into Allen's ear:

"Allow me to make a proposition, Mr. Walker, as a way of vengeance for her insults and accusations. I would be willing to whip out my old pranking book, if you will join me for a duet at some point."

The near bursting grin on Allen's face was sufficient enough to be taken as a definitive 'yes.'

Allen and Severus walked across the corridor towards the great hall, but not before Allen turned back. Lavi hadn't returned from his task. _He'll probably be back by tonight, though, _Allen mused as he turned back towards the great hall and walked in.

Severus had already entered as a way of distancing himself from Allen in front of the students, but he did look back over his shoulder as Allen entered 20 paces behind.

The hall didn't fall silent; but Allen received a few stares and heard a few frantic whispers from the Gryffindor table as he forced a sitting between Harry and another Gryffindor whose name was unknown. He ignored them, but he analyzed what they were saying; it would tell him how much they knew.

"_He was __**married**__ to her!"_

_"No way! He's not even 16 yet!"_

_"Did you hear the song he played this morning?"_

_"I did! It's stuck in my head!"_

_"Same here, but it was _hilarious."

_"I'm gonna play the piano during my free period!"_

The whispers came from all around, except for the trio that Allen had just turned into a quartet. They sat in silent, awkward contemplation and silence for a few moments-until the owls arrived.

A flurry of wings and feathers spewed in from the windows, and surprisingly, a recognized tiny white owl with black specks on her wings landed in front of Harry. He blinked. _Did Sirius seriously-_no._ He's not __**that**__ stupid, _Harry thought as he pulled the gray letter off of the left leg of his owl. _Who else would send me suspiciously gray mail with a cross on it?_

Allen hadn't noticed, too busy eating.

Harry opened the mail to find a-oh, Christ. A howler was bad, but _this?_

He had received a _burner._ Same as a howler, but it was dark purple and when they started screaming _flames_ would shoot out of their mouths. They had been outlawed years ago, though…

Voldemort? No. He wouldn't be so low as to send something to just singe Harry's hair.

_Who else?_ Harry thought as he pulled the string that would release the burner. It shot upwards, twisting itself and morphing into a pair of origami lips, flames already spurting from it. Oddly enough, the voice that came wasn't howling, nor screaming, nor yelling, nor scolding.

"Harry Potter, _darling._" A masculine voice said, causing everyone to turn and listen to the burner. Harry didn't recognize the voice, but Allen sure as hell did. He turned to listen, brow shadowed, a fork sticking out of his mouth and a spoon full of potatoes an inch from his lips.

"I would have sent a Tease, but I believe it would have eaten at least several if not all of the owls at your school. I thought about sending you a normal letter, but it would be _so __**boring.**_ So, Rhode said to use this instead. Apparently it breathes fire. Anyways, we'd like you to give a message to our dear, _dear_ friend **Allen** for us."

Harry cast a glance over at Allen, who had turned away and was eating furiously, brow furrowed and obliviously trying to ignore whatever the burner had to say, even though it had already sent several spouts of flame towards him.

"Tell him that the Earl may have a painting in Hogwarts, same as his friends, the Bookman and the Samurai." Allen stopped eating, dropping his utensils and turning his full attention to the burner.

"There may also be paintings of other Noah, most importantly including-Oh, hang on, Rhode wants to say something." There was a scuffling sound and suddenly a high pitched squeal was heard.

"Allen~! We've kept to our _agreement_, so when are you gonna visit us again? Or am I gonna have to come and-" The message was cut off as Allen slapped the burner to the table with his right hand, so fast and so hard that the flames went out. He picked it up after a moment and dropped it into a pitcher of water, the _hissing_ sound quickly being muffled.

Everyone stared at Allen and Harry, including the teachers. Umbridge had already entered and believed she had found what she was looking for.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Walker, _detention, _and _twenty points_ from Gryffindor for use and possession of illegal contraband on school grounds. I'll see you this afternoon in my office." She said, sweetly, but there was obvious psychotic mirth in her voice. Harry visibly gulped, while Allen sighed.

"Knew she'd get me as soon as she could." He murmured.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked from across the table. Allen placed his chin in his palm.

"She's been after me since I played the first song on the piano. I didn't enchant it or anything, but she's out to get me, and now she has. She's going to have herself taken down a few notches, though, I can assure you." Allen said, casting an eye towards Snape, who barely containing his amusement and glee at the prospect of pranking Umbridge.

Not noticed by any of them was the platinum blonde watching them intently from a green-robed table.

_I want answers. And I want them __**now.**_

* * *

_****Pretty shitty cliffhanger, but it's key to what happens next. What do you think will happen next? _

_I'm not telling~!  
_

_Better buckle the fuck in though, cause it's gonna get pretty crazy in the next chapter. _


	6. Potions,Pranking,a Dark Deal is made!

_Hey there, readers. I suggest you sit down: you'll be on your feet by the end of the chapter. Tell me if you don't understand something, I'll try to reword it to make it easier to comprehend._

_Please review, and as always, Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Just as Draco stood up to walk over to the Gryffindor table and try and speak to Allen, breakfast ended. He cursed his luck as he lost the white-haired boy in the crowd of students. He filed out just like everyone else, muttering dark words under his breath, but he paused when he saw the painting on the door of the music room.

It was empty.

_That's curious._ Draco thought to himself as he walked over to the painting, tapping it, and watching the door open. He entered the room and found himself looking at an instrument he'd only heard about; the piano. He'd never seen one before, though apparently there was one in a decrepit music room at Malfoy Manor that hadn't been used in a century.

He started to walk towards the piano but checked himself. _I don't have time for fooling around with instruments, I've got to get to class._ He walked out of the room, but not before casting one more glance at the piano.

Potions began the moment Snape walked into the room, just a few moments after Draco did.

"Select a partner and take a _seat._" Snape hissed, leering at his students as they scuttled around the room trying to find a partner. Ron and Harry partnered together, while Hermione grouped with Allen. Draco cursed his luck once more, unable to talk to Allen, and sat down next to Blaise Zabini. Snape stood at the front of the room and motioned with his hand towards the board, which had complex instructions on it.

"Today you will be making a potion with a purpose." Snape said, casting an almost imperceptible smirk at Allen, who just twitched, barely containing his excitement for whatever Snape was planning.

"You will be creating a potion that is not in your textbooks, so I have written the instructions on the board; I suggest you write them down and save yourself from running back and forth from your chair to the front of the classroom. The potion is known as the Draught of Delectable De-coloration. You'll find ingredients at the back of the room. Begin."

Hermione and Allen were the first at the board, Hermione copying the instructions while Allen wrote down the ingredients needed and darted to the back of the classroom, gathering them and meeting Hermione at the cauldron. He stirred the pot and she added ingredients in perfect time. Severus and Allen's eyes met several times, and they could barely contain the bursting grins that threatened to appear on their faces, as they both knew the intention of this potion.

"Place whatever is in your hands on the table and step away from the cauldron." Snape said with a few minutes left in class. To every student's surprise, he did not simply make each bad potion disappear, but instead helped them to fix it.

_Snape_ helped them. What was the world coming to?

"Three drops more banshee spittle." He said to Ron and Harry, ignoring the surprised look on their faces as he approached Allen and Hermione's cauldron. He glanced into the pot to find a dreary gray liquid bubbling away, just the right consistency.

"Well done." He said, moving on to the next potion, but not before letting a snicker escape his lips as he locked eyes with Allen for a moment. Hermione didn't even hear the expression of humor. The man who they thought to be out to get them, who treated them like _dung_ every year, just complemented her potion. She gulped, blinked, and just sat there, unable to speak.

When all the potions had been examined and fixed, Snape walked to the front of the room and placed his hands on his desk, looking at all his students with a glare of glee.

"As I said, this is a potion with a purpose, and that is the reason I aided you all today. Rest assured I will not be so lenient again, but you may all walk out of this room with no grade below Acceptable today. I believe you'll find the use of the Draught of Delectable De-Coloration to be quite…humorous." He said, spooning a small bit of his own batch into tiny vials which he then passed out to the students.

"Who can tell me what the possible uses of the Draught of Delectable De-Coloration are?" He asked, leering at his students once more. Allen raised his hand, and Snape almost chuckled. "Mr. W-Walker." He said, coughing to stifle his chuckle.

"It can be used to remove any color from anything in the world, and can only be undone with the Concoction of Countless Colors." Allen said, a grin plastered on his face for all to see.

"Correct." Snape said as the bell tolled and class ended. "Mr. Walker, a moment." Allen stayed seated while the rest of the students filed out of the classroom.

"You-you wanted to see me, s-sir?" Allen cackled, unable to contain his laughter any longer, pounding a fist on the desk. Snape couldn't hold up his emotionless mask any longer either, and took to a dark chuckle as he ran a hand through his greasy hair.

"I think Umbridge will love the, heh, _changes_ to her room, Allen." Severus said, walking out from behind his desk and approaching the door with Allen, who had already stood up, side by side. He paused when Allen held out a closed fist, blinking.

Then he brought his own hand and balled it into a fist, crashing it against Allen's as they exited the room, heading in separate directions like someone would from an explosion.

That lunch period was perhaps the most interesting they would have all year. Umbridge sat down at her seat as though nothing was wrong. Snape was sitting next to her and had brought his emotionless mask back onto his face, only raising an eyebrow at her _gray_ dress, _gray_ hair, and_ gray_ skin.

"You wouldn't happen to be part troll and now you're dressing for the part, Dolores?" He asked, a smirk on his face. Umbridge eyed him with suspicion in her eyes.

"No, Severus. I don't believe I am. Though when I entered my room today I found a box on my desk that, when opened, released a cloud of smoke that turned everything gray. And when I say everything, I mean _everything._ Including my retina." Severus nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, recovering quickly, laughing like a maniac inside his head.

"It sounds like you got hit with a Draught of Delectable De-coloration." Snape said, just loud enough for the students sitting closest to the head table to hear. Luckily, one of them had been in his class and began frantic whispering. Allen just burst out laughing when he came into the lunchroom, late, as he had been lost in the halls on his way from History of Magic. Umbridge flushed, her cheeks turning a darker shade of gray.

"Mr. Walker, that'll be-"

"Dolores, I don't believe there are any laws about laughter, even if that laughter is based on someone's misfortune." The Headmaster himself interrupted, causing most of the staff table to go silent and look at him, along with most of the students. Umbridge turned an even darker shade of gray.

"Mr. Walker, don't forget, you have detention today after your classes are completed. You too, Mr. Potter." She received only laughter in response.

Draco left lunch early, leaving his subordinates, Crabbe and Goyle, behind. He roamed the halls for quite a while, wasting away the time. He was pretty sure he'd been going in circles. He stopped walking, however, when he noticed the wall to his left glowing in a rectangle of blue light. He stepped back, out of fear, but stopped when the rectangle turned into a pair of double doors.

He stepped forward and pressed the right door open. The room was about the size of the great hall, give or take twenty feet. The ceiling wasn't nearly as high either, and wasn't enchanted to reflect the sky. Draco walked forward, looking around the room. It was gray. Only the candles floating in the air allowed him to see anything. He sat down on the only chair in the room, near the far wall, and ran his hands through his hair.

"God, if only I had _information_ on this Allen Walker…" he muttered.

"Allen Walker, you say?" A male voice said, coming from in front of Draco. He shot upwards, knocking the chair back as he examined the wall. He realized it wasn't a wall at all, but a mural. The very edges of the wall were a frame, and the wall was actually covered with a thin, thin sheet of canvas. Canvas that suddenly turned from gray to pitch black, with one spot glowing like the moon.

Draco watched the rest of the painting shift as he stepped back to get a better view. The spot that was glowing filled in with detail, turning out to, indeed, be the moon. Before his eyes Draco saw a hill appear, and a tree shoot out of the ground, blue and black leaves glistening in the painted moonlight. Then he noticed the chair next to the tree. Totally visible, at the center of the painting, a chair sat on the hill facing away from him. He saw the figure sitting in the chair was wearing a top hat and was swinging an umbrella on his wrist as he stood and turned to face Draco.

"I believe I'd know plenty about the man who killed me." The…_thing_ said. Draco couldn't call a person with such a smile, such a body, a _man_. He was impossibly wide, even bigger than Hagrid, he guessed. The pink umbrella had a pumpkin on the end, and the man wore glasses that hid his eyes with the bright moonlight reflecting off of them. Draco reached out and picked up the chair, sitting back down in front of the painting.

"Who're you? And what do you mean, killed you?" He asked, crossing his arms as he examined the man coming closer on the hill, now about Draco's height on the wall. The thing let out a chuckle and grinned even wider.

"You may call me the Millennium Earl. And I mean what I said, _Draco Malfoy_. I was killed by Allen Walker."

Draco blinked a few times. _The Millennium Earl…The Earl? Wasn't that what the burner at breakfast had said to Potter and Walker?_

"OK. So then…you know about Walker?"

"Considerably more than anyone who is still alive."

"What do you mean by that?" Draco asked, tilting his head. The Earl giggled in response.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you realize where you are?" He asked, gesturing to the room, as if making a point.

"No. You obviously know, so tell me." The man pointed his umbrella around the room.

"This is the Room of Requirement, the original _need_ system and the companion to the Dictionary of Desideratum and the Coffin of Containment. You _required_ someone to tell you about Allen Walker: That is why I am here." The man said, turning to look at the moon behind him. "It's funny, they hid my painting in the Room of Requirement based on the idea I no one would ever _need_ me." He turned back to Draco.

"Apparently they were wrong." He finished, smiling even wider than before. Draco thought if he tore that grin any wider he'd break his cheekbones.

"Well, since you're_ needed_, then do your job. Tell me about Allen Walker, Earl." Draco said, commanding. The Earl only laughed in response.

"My existence is unlike any other, Mr. Malfoy. If you tore my painting you would never know the truth of Allen Walker. I am the one who holds the information you need, and I have a task which, when completed, will grace me enough to supply you with the knowledge you require."

Draco frowned at the Earl.

"Fine. What's your task?" The Earl swung his umbrella on his hand, walking back to his chair.

"Search the castle. Destroy the painting containing the soul of Lenalee Lee."

* * *

_Dun dun dun!_

_Please review and look forward to the next chapter: it'll get even crazier._


	7. Cryptex cracked! Paint Puller revealed!

_Long-awaited, took too long, but it's finally here: Chapter 7._

_I know you've been waiting a while and I shouldn't have taken so long, but I hope you'll be off your seats by the end of this chapter._

_New flash: I'm bringing the pain,_**_ HARD._**

**__**_There's also a tiny bit of OOC shit in here. Eh, whatever._

**__**_I hope you enjoy, and if you see any errors in spelling or what-not let me know, and please review!_

* * *

Allen walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts straight from lunch, following right behind the woman who looked like she had come from a black-and-white movie. She was holding it together, somehow. When Allen entered the classroom he noticed the personal room door was closed, but there were streaks of gray on the floor leading out of it, and a bit on the walls and ceiling where the smoke had drifted out.

"Good Morning." She said, standing at the front of the class. She left little gray footprints where she stepped-there was a circle of them where she had been pacing earlier. "I said, _good morning._"

The students responded, quietly. Umbridge sighed.

"Pull out your textbooks and put away your wands." Umbridge commanded. Hermione raised her hand without a moment's thought.

"Professor, shouldn't we have our wands out so we can practice-"

"Practice? Miss Granger, do you think you'll be _attacked_ in the middle of class?"

"Well, no-"

"Are you a ministry qualified educator?"

"No." Hermione said flatly.

"But we should-"Harry began, but he was cut off.

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge cried, and Harry raised his hand; futile, though, since she had turned completely away from him. Allen put up his own hand, but found she ignored it. Another student put their hand up, and she finally acknowledged them.

"Shouldn't we be practicing-in case-"

"In case what? What do expect to be facing?"

"Voldemort." Harry said, drawing stares and hushing everyone in the classroom. Umbridge smiled sweetly, masking her inner devil.

"My, Mr. Potter-you actually believe that senile old man?"

"I was there!" Harry yelled, standing up. Umbridge pointed her finger at him.

"Sit down." The boy did so, albeit audibly growling and fuming. "I'd like you all to understand something-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not returned. Your Headmaster in delusional-" Allen stood up. "Sit down, Mr. Walker."

"Oh, so you _can_ see me. I thought you had gone blind in both your eyes for a moment there." Allen said, still standing up. "Sorry, just wanted to see if you were blatantly ignoring a student-therefore acting like an _unqualified educator._ I just wanted to check." He sat down. Umbridge frowned.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class. As I was saying-"

"What proof do you have that he _hasn't _come back?" Harry asked, interrupting her once again.

"Another five points-"

"You don't have any basis for an argument yourself-you could choose either way if he's returned or not-the fact _Deatheaters_ bloody attacked the World Cup last year should be signals enough." Another student interrupted, this time from Ravenclaw.

"Twenty points from-"

"Miss Umbridge." Allen said, putting his feet up on his desk and crossing his arms. "This entire class period you've done nothing but scold us about something that has _nothing_ to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, and taken points away from our houses. It seems you can't keep the subject on topic-maybe you shouldn't be teaching us."

She snapped. By god, she _snapped._

"All of you, quiet!" She yelled, flailing her arms. "You brats know nothing about anything-open your textbooks and-"She was interrupted once again when the door of the room slammed open. A man taller than most in a top hat and gold bordered coat entered.

"M-Master?" Allen asked, hunching down in his seat as he gazed at the figure.

"Stupid brat-I found Timcampy. We'll deal with the puzzle after you spend your _detention,_ which Dumbledore told me about-idiot apprentice, you're making me look bad! You get detention again and I'll use your for target practice!"

Allen slumped in his chair. "Yes, Master." He said, mumbling. The man in the door left the room, slamming the door shut. Umbridge's face had contorted so much she couldn't even speak. She was waving her hands about; her face blushed a dark gray-but then the door slammed open again.

The man entered, holding a giant revolver in one hand and pointing at Umbridge.

"Apprentice-is that a Noah?"

"No, Master-it's my _Professor._" Cross blinked.

"Pro…fessor, right…" He put _Judgement _away and left the room again. The bell tolled. Umbridge let out a hiss of air as the students stood up and left the classroom, all but Harry and Allen. She sat in the chair at her desk, glaring at them until the last student left-then she grinned.

"Into my office, if you _please_." Allen and Harry stood up and followed her over to the splotched-gray door, which she opened to reveal a totally gray room. She motioned to two desks sitting in the middle of the room.

"I think writing lines will be suitable punishment for you both. Mr. Potter, why don't you write…'I will not tell lies'? And Mr. Walker, you can write 'I will not interrupt class.' They might not fit your initial transgression, but I think these words will mean more." We were sat down and handed quills, but no ink.

"Professor? We didn't get any ink."

"Oh, you don't need ink for those." She said, a wicked smile on her face. Allen shrugged and began writing on the paper. He felt a tickling on his left hand but ignored it, trying to get some ink to come out of the quill.

He glanced over at Harry to see him hissing in pain as blood came out of his left hand. He stood up, took the quill from Harry and threw it across the room, picking up his left hand and holding it to his eyes to examine.

"Mr. Walker-"

"Shut it, _Professor_, I'm busy trying to figure out what _you_ did to Harry." It appeared the words 'I will not tell lies' were now cut into Harry's hand. No wonder it didn't work on Allen-unless the quills were filled with innocence or dark energy, he wouldn't be injured. Umbridge had stood up from her desk and was looking at Allen's left hand, finding it odd it wasn't bleeding out and soaking the glove red.

"Mr. Walker, it seems punishment has not been dealt to you. Have you written your lines?"

"Yes. It tickled. I'm taking Harry to Madam Pomfrey-I'll talk to the Headmaster about your obviously illegal punishment methods later." Umbridge flushed dark gray, lips sputtering as she reached out and snatched Allen's hand.

"You should be bleeding!" She cried as she tore the glove off, revealing a solid black hand with claws and a red cross on the back. She barely had time to yelp before Allen had brought that hand to her neck and pinned her against the wall.

"Professor." He said, smiling like a fox. "There are only two things preventing me from tearing your head off right now-one is my personal morals, which include not killing regular humans. The other is the fact that you have injured my charge, and I must take care of him. If you should do _anything_ like this again I will not hesitate to end your life." He released her, dropping her to the ground, pulling his glove back on.

"Come on." He said, grabbing Harry by the wrist and dragging him out of the room, heading for the Hospital Wing.

"Wha-" Harry began, but he was cut off as Allen all but threw him into a hospital bed and picked up Ms. Pomfrey and brought her over. She blinked a few times and then looked down at Harry and the markings in his hand. Without a second thought (even though she had just been picked up by a 15 year old) she began cleaning Harry's words and applied dittany to limit the scarring.

When she had finished whispering death threats to Allen for picking her up and moving her across the room in such a rude manner, she left. Allen sat down next to Harry, shivering at the thought of what some of the things Ms. Pomfrey had said. They didn't say anything to each other for a few minutes while Harry flexed his hand, wincing as the dittany did its work.

"Allen, why's your arm all black?"

Allen groaned-he knew the question would be asked but to actually give the same old explanation was a _pain._ "Born with it." Harry wanted to press…but that response sounded forced enough, so they sat in silence until-**_Boom!_** The door of the hospital wing slammed into the wall, crumpling with the force of the impact, and fell off its hinges. In the doorway stood;

"Master?" Allen asked, casually turning away from his charge only to find a hand placed on his face and his entire body thrown to the ground. Didn't hurt, but it was disorienting all the same. "Nice to-woah-see you too, Master." He said as he stood up, wobbly with the impact.

"Idiot, I said come to me when you're done with your detention-not get hurt and come to the hospital wing!" Allen stood stolid-faced as his Master berated him, and when Master had finished, he pointed to Harry.

"Charge. Mine. Highest Priority." He said. Cross looked like he'd explode any second-but with a hiss of breath from his teeth, he contained himself from destroying half the castle, and saved many lives.

"Let's open the damn thing, already, brat." He said, pulling the cryptex out of his coat and Tincampy flying out of his pocket. "I had to hold him back-he tried opening it as soon as he saw it earlier." They moved over to a bed where Harry couldn't quite see what they were doing, but not for lack of trying; his neck had grown pretty flexible and he could stretch it to _just_ make out something golden on the bed.

Timcampy was ecstatic to finally open the cryptex. He zoomed straight for it and wrapped around it, his tail twitching as it spun the dials into their correct locations. After about a minute the golem unwrapped himself and went to one end of the cryptex where he fit his body snuggly into a keyhole, and using his tail as an anchor outside, turned himself to unlock the cryptex completely.

_Click-clack._ The thing fell open, and all these little parts started moving around and began collapsing the cryptex into a smaller and smaller object that, in the end, laid next to what it had contained. A…glove? Allen reached out and picked the glove up, examining it. At the wrist area of the glove it said two words in elegant calligraphy; _Paint Puller._ Well that was curious. There were three green baubles that took refuge on the back of the hand, each one glowing dully, as though they were tired. But could green baubles get tired, anyways?

Allen held the glove a moment longer before he stuffed it in his pocket. "I'll find out what it is from Dumbledore-Master, you…stay in touch, this time." He said, turning to Cross. Cross, who was already one leg out the hospital wing window. He glanced back at Allen sporting a foxy grin.

"If I need you I'll find you, stupid idiot. If you need me, don't count on it!" He chuckled and flew out the window-Timcampy enlarged and flew under Cross, giving him a ride to who knows where as Allen watched from the window.

"Idiot Master…" he muttered before walking over to Harry, who had a million questions, such as 'what the hell is that glove' and 'who in the hell was that guy' but Allen held up a hand to silence him before he spoke. "You will take this," Allen said, handing Harry a tiny yellow stone, "and when you're in trouble, crush it with your hand. I asked Dumbledore about this earlier-forgot to give you it." With that, he ran out of the room, straight to Dumbledore's office, ignoring the students in the hallways going to their classes.

He stared at the Gargoyle for a few moments.

"Move, please." He asked. No movement occurred. "Move, _please,_ or I'll break your nose off." The stone twitched, but didn't move. It could sense Allen was plenty strong enough to break more than its nose. Allen raised his hand and _zoom,_ it shot up against the wall. He ran up the staircase, not noticing it was moving until he got to the top.

_Knock, knock._ "Come in!" Came a call from inside. Allen opened the door and entered, only to find Umbridge standing in front of Dumbledore's desk. She stepped back at the sight of Allen, and Allen noticed the almost imperceptible _smirk,_ not smile, on Dumbledore's face.

"Professor, I need to ask some questions pertaining a magical item." He turned to Umbridge. "I'm sure your business can wait until later?" She hesitated, glaring at him, but he made a move forward and she ran out of the room, gray cardigan leaving a trail of smoke in the air as she did so. Allen turned to Dumbledore as the door slammed shut. "What," he asked, pulling the glove out and holding it up, "is this?"

Dumbledore's mouth fell open. He stood up, albeit slowly, and approached Allen. He made a silent gesture of 'may I?' and Allen held out the glove to him, which he snatched and held up to the light.

"It's a real one…" He muttered. He lowered the glove and turned back to Allen. "Where did you find this?"

"A cryptex." The answer made Dumbledore shrug.

"I suppose they have been found in worse places. Do you have _any_ idea what this glove can do?" He asked, gently placing the glove in Allen's open hand. Allen shook his head.

"I thought it might be something to do with paintings-"

"Correct!" Dumbledore cried, pointing a finger at the glove. "That glove is a three of a kind artifact, the other two are lost to the world and no one knows where they are, but rumor has had it for the past two hundred or so years that one of them was here, in the castle! Allen, this _glove_ has more power than you can imagine! Wars have been fought-" Allen cut him off by yanking on the overly lengthy beard.

"What does it do?" He asked, ignoring the grumbling Dumbledore gave as he massaged his chin.

**_"If you put on the glove, you can reach into a painting and pull a person out."_**

Allen blinked, looking down at the glove for an unknown period of time as Dumbledore began to circle the room, telling ancient tales of how the _Paint Puller _came into existence, but Allen wasn't listening. _With this glove…_ Without a second thought he wrenched the door open and flew down the stairs, jumped over the gargoyle and took off at a full sprint. He ran, ran, ran, eventually ending up at the stairs. He shot up, jumping from staircase to staircase in his mad dash to get to the common room.

"Murdering Mojitos." He said when he reached the Gryffindor common room painting. The woman gave him an appraising look and noticed the glove he held in his hand. Her eyes grew wide and she pressed her hands up against the painting.

"That's not the password, but if you get me out of the painting I'll-" Allen brought one fist to the painting, pressing against it with force threatening to break the wall behind it.

"Open. Now. Before you cease existing." The door flew open without hesitation from the woman-Dark Allen was scary.

He crossed the room in three steps and stood in front of Kanda's painting. "Kanda!" He called, pulling his right glove off his hand and replacing it with the _Paint Puller._ Kanda turned to face him and stared at the glove he was putting on.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing. Allen grinned in response, raising the hand.

"Kanda, grab my hand."

"Huh?"

"I don't really know how this works." Allen said, flexing the hand as he brought it closer to the canvas. "But hopefully it'll work." He pressed his hand against the painting and he felt something similar to the vacuum Tyki had wrapped around him during their fight. With a grunt, he pressed harder, and a golden glow began to come from where his hand was on the painting-and then it fell through. Up to his shoulder, his entire arm was inside the painting.

"Kanda!" He yelled, trying to figure out if it was working or not. Then he felt something latch onto his hand, a grip, strong as steel, and he watched the golden glow fill the entire painting. He began to pull-the vacuum was strong, but Allen was far stronger. His elbow was out of the painting. When his hand began to pull out he found strong fingers wrapped around his. The fingers became a hand, the hand became an arm, and the arm became…

"Hello." Kanda said as his face breached the painting and he grabbed Allen's arm with his other hand, pulling himself out. They fell into a slump on the ground with Kanda on top, pressing down on Allen with his full weight.

"Kanda!" Allen cried, wrapping his arms around the Samurai, so tight he might have bruised a rib. Kanda broke the death grip and stood up, offering Allen a hand.

"How in the hell did you do that?" He asked, sizing Allen up-he hadn't' gotten any taller. Allen held up the gloved hand.

"_Paint Puller._" He explained, though it wasn't much of an explanation because he could barely contain his excitement for the next thing he would do; "Let's go get Lavi."

As they both ran down the halls Allen couldn't help but let out a laugh of glee and even Kanda let out a hearty chuckle as they jumped from staircase to staircase, down to the first floor. They zoomed down the halls and appeared in front of the music room.

"Allen~!" Lavi cried when he saw his favorite parasitic-innocence user. Then he lost his voice, lips flapping open and closed as he stuttered. "Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-KANDA?!" he cried, pressing his face up against the painting to look at them better. "What the bloody…You used the _Paint Puller!"_ He cried, pointing at Allen. Allen just nodded, holding up the glove with a giant smile on his face. Lavi stared at the glove for a moment.

"Your turn, Lavi." Allen said, reaching for the painting. But Lavi held up a hand.

"Allen, I want you to do two things. One, look at the glove." Allen obliged. "See the green baubles?" Allen nodded. "See how once is black and cracked in half now?" Allen nodded again, then double took.

"What the…"

"When you pull a person out you lose one charge-and you only have three. The second thing I want you to do is to wait here while I get the rest of me." Lavi ran out of the painting, disappearing into who knows where. Allen stared at the glove-he had seen it turning black as he pulled Kanda out, cracking when Kanda landed on top of him fully out of the painting, but he hadn't thought of it because of his adrenaline rush.

_That means after Lavi I'll only have…one person left. _Allen flexed the glove, staring at the baubles. _Lenalee. I'll find your painting next, and get you out. Lavi said you might be here, and I won't rest until I've searched every place in the castle till I either find you or turn to ash._ Allen's thoughts were interrupted as the painting suddenly filled with one two three…_17 other Lavi's?!_

"You better get us out of here quick, or the painting's bindings will break from all the knowledge in here!" One of the Lavi's said-Allen could already see the painting beginning to shimmer, and without hesitation he shoved his hand through the ethereal surface, the entire painting turning gold instantly. He felt hands latch onto his arm. He felt others patting against him, unable to get a grip.

"Kanda, put your hand in too!" Allen grunted, barely able to keep his arm in its socket. Kanda stepped forward, hesitating as his hand touched the painting, but nevertheless plunged his hand in and began feeling the same grabbing sensation. Neither of them felt any more patting, and they both felt a light tap on their wrist.

"Pull, Moyashi!" Kanda cried as they both pushed off of the frame with their other arms and legs, teeth gritting with the strain of pulling all the people out of the painting. With a tumbling and rumbling and series of thumps, 18 Lavi's filled the hall. Kanda and Allen looked at each other, then at the 18 Bookmen. One of the Bookmen poked another, and they were suddenly pulled together by a golden glow, becoming one person. It wasn't long before all of the Lavi's were combined, and a single man, _The_ Lavi, stood before them both, extending both hands to help them up.

"Welcome back, Lavi." Kanda said, rubbing his shoulder, wincing from the pain. He was never helping Allen with anything again, ever, period. The Bookman embraced them both in a crushing hug.

"I never thought I'd be able to feel another person again!" He cried, a single tear coming from his left eye as he squeezed them tighter. He collected himself rather fast, though, as a Bookman should not display emotion nor become attached. Allen squeezed back, a giant grin on his face, and Kanda kind of-well-patted him on the back. Kanda isn't good with this touchy-feely stuff, OK?

When they separated Allen watched the second bauble crack down the middle. Only the third one still remained green and glowing. It had turned from that tired sickly green to one almost as vibrant as Lavi's eye.

"Now we search for-" Allen was cut off.

A scream filled the hallway, one that all three Exorcists recognized. Allen turned to face the direction and his mouth fell open.

"Lena…lee?" He asked. He began to walk. Then he sped up, up and up and up until he was running faster than he ever had. The screams continued, getting louder and louder as he turned the corner at the back end of the castle, a place where almost no one went because the only thing here was…paintings.

Paintings, sure. There were plenty of them around, but only one of them was _on fire._

**_"Lenalee!"_** Allen cried as he ran to the painting. Lenalee was on a set of steps, and she was near the top of the painting, almost as far as she could go on the steps and the fire was already upon her. "Lenalee, grab my hand!" Allen plunged his hand into the painting, ignoring the heat of the flames as they lit his robe on fire. The golden glow spread only as far as the painting was intact, and he felt something grip his hand, but it was weak-and it was letting go. He reached out and snatched it, realizing that it was far too light to be…

He yanked his hand out of the painting, far, _far_ easier than it should have been. And with it…no Lenalee. No wife of years past, nothing in his hand but ash, which he let sift through his fingers.

"Al…len?" A voice came from behind, one which Allen didn't even recognize as the last of the ash fell to the floor. The painting was burned to a crisp-Lenalee had probably been dead before she had grabbed his hand, and even if she had been slightly intact, what would have come out? An arm, one dismembered and burning arm?

Allen made no sound for a few moments as he wiped his fingers against the _Paint Puller_. The only thing he distantly noticed was that the green bauble had turned black, but was slowly becoming green once more-since it hadn't pulled a living person out… Allen pulled on the fingers of the glove, daintily pulling it off his hand and holding it with his other. He began to shake. Tremble, like a person up against a hurricane.

**_"LENALEE!_**" he shouted, slamming his head against the floor, the tears beginning to stream down his face wetting the ash his cheeks rested against. He threw the glove so hard it flew down the hall, and he began to slam his fists against the stone floor so hard the castle began to shake. His screams of tragedy echoed throughout the castle, and the nearby classroom, McGonagall's, opened. She stared at the sight of perhaps one of the cockiest boys she had seen in all her years at Hogwarts, breaking down and causing the floor to crack as he slammed his forehead against it again and again.

Allen felt a hand touch his shoulder-he spun around and knocked Lavi across the hall, slamming him against the wall.

When he had seen what he had just done he fell to the floor once more, sobbing; only flinching when _Kanda_ placed a hand on his back. Lavi pulled himself off the wall and wiped the blood from his broken nose, and joined Kanda in his attempt to calm Allen down. All of a sudden, Allen just stopped crying. He sniffed deeply, and rubbed his eyes, standing up. He breathed deeply and turned to face McGonagall.

"I-I am sorry for interrupting your class. I will take my grieving elsewhere." He said, voice barely a whisper. Without giving her a chance to respond, he began to walk down the hall, Kanda and Lavi both holding a hand on each of his shoulders.

_During the course of these events…_

Draco wore a cloak to hide his identity-there were other paintings here, and he couldn't afford being seen. He had stolen a first-year Ravenclaw's wand and was now pointing it at the painting of the one known as Lenalee. She wasn't looking at him, just sighing to herself and holding her knees to her chest. Draco steeled himself and flicked the wand.

"_Pingenda Exterminatore."_ A white hot spark came out of his wand and wafted towards the painting as he turned and strode down the hall, turning a corner and turning back to watch his handiwork. When the painting lit on fire the girl began to scream-and Draco could hear someone fast approaching.

"**_Lenalee!"_** Walker ran towards the painting, not hesitating to shove his hand into it. Draco's eyes flew wide at that-how was he putting his hand into a painting? But he pulled his hand back out and there was nothing but ash within it. His friends…who had been paintings before, but Draco would worry about that later, arrived moments later. Allen began to scream and wail, and he flung something down the hall towards Draco.

"_Accio glove."_ Draco said as he recognized the object for what it was. The thing flew to his hand and he examined it. Then he took off running for the seventh floor.

"Earl!" He yelled when he entered the room, throwing his cloak behind him as he pulled the glove on-it was still covered in ash. The Earl's painting filled with color once again and the inhuman man stood before Draco.

"Hmm? You've completed your task." He said, grin growing wider. Draco held up his gloved hand.

"And I found something." The Earl examined what he held in his hand and the grin grew even wider.

"Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy-cream of the crop, that's what you are. You want to know about Allen Walker, still, I assume? In return, I would hope you would be so kind as to pull me out of this painting." Draco nodded, sitting down in the chair and crossing his arms and legs to get comfortable. The Earl swung his umbrella over his shoulder and began to pace his painting.

"Well, where to start…Allen Walker was born 105 years ago, he's ageless because of a certain someone inhabiting his body-the 14th Noah. I created the Noah, but the 14th betrayed me. He reincarnated into Allen's body, and together they put a stop to me almost 85 years ago."

Draco just listened slack-jawed as he absorbed the information, but the Earl paid no notice.

"Allen Walker is an exorcist-he uses his left arm to destroy the machines I made from human souls. Pity, he would have made an excellent Noah had he joined my side. He killed me, and 11 of my Noah, excluding the one inhabiting his body, the Noah of Pleasure, and the Noah of Dreams." The Earl stopped speaking, turning to face Draco. "Any questions before you get me out of this canvas?"

Draco tapped his chin. "What's he doing here, then?" He asked, crossing his arms again. The Earl turned and began to pace once again.

"He put a way of contacting him on a painting resting on a fellow exorcist's grave. Apparently you write a letter, put it in the frame of the painting, and drip a few drops of blood on the grave. Then he swings by and takes your request, doing whatever he's asked to do without much question. He's battled wars, protected people, like he is now with that Harry Potter and he's killed plenty. Anything else?"

Draco flinched at the mention of his least favorite Gryffindor. "No. No more questions." He stood up, walking over to the painting, and placed his hand on it, letting the vacuum pull his arm in. He felt a hand latch onto his own, and the entire painting turned golden-but then it turned _red._ He groaned as he pulled the arm of the Earl out-he'd never done something so physically strenuous. As soon as the other arm revealed itself it lunged out and grabbed Draco's shoulder.

"E-Earl?" Draco asked as the Earl placed a foot on the ground and the painting began to flash like a strobe-light. The Earl released Draco's shoulder and pulled the umbrella from his coat-except it wasn't an umbrella anymore. With one deft swing, the giant sword cleaved Draco in half, blood splattering across the entire room as the Earl began to giggle with unbound joy, swinging his sword around and letting guts splash against the walls. His grin grew wider and wider and he began to walk across the room, dragging the sword on the ground behind him.

"This is the beginning of the end, Allen Walker."


End file.
